'Guinevere?' Arthur called as looked about him. The laundry was a hive of activity, sheets hanging limply like the masts of ships without wind.

He scoured the room, oblivious to the curious glances being cast his way.

'Sire?'

He spun around, his face only inches from hers. She took an involuntary step backwards. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes bright with exertion and the heat of the room.

'Sire?' she repeated a little uncertainly into the silence which bore down upon them. Everyone else had stopped to watch, frozen in time, the only sound, the drip-drip of water onto the stone flagged floor.

'May I have a word?'

If she was taken aback she did not show it, she inclined her head and wiping her hands on her apron she followed him out of the door.

'Sorry' he said as soon as the cold air of the corridor met their cheeks. She gave him a puzzled, expectant look and he elaborated, 'I should not have interrupted you while you were working,' he looked down

at floor, 'sorry' he said again rather sheepishly.

'It is no matter, my lord' she said politely and he could tell from her voice that she was smiling. He raised his eyes to hers, 'if I am honest I appreciated the break.'

It was so rare for them to spend time together, for him to look at her freely. He drank in her presence, greedily like a man dying from thirst.

'Sire?' she said again, a slight crease wrinkling her forehead.

'Sorry' he said again. Stop apologising and stop daydreaming, he thought fiercely, pull yourself together, you are the Crown Prince of Camelot for pity's sake.

'I wanted to ask if you might give me some advice' he said, his Adam's apple bobbing like a cork in his throat.

Clearly not what she had been expecting, her lips parted in surprise.

'Of course sire, though I am sure there are many others better placed to give you counsel.'

'Well- you see- Guinevere... I wanted to ask you about girls' he said, his face as crimson as his cloak.

'Girls?' she said, deadpan, though he could have sworn he could hear the tremor of amusement in her voice, but it was strangled by her sense of decorum.

'Yes' he replied nervously shifting his weight from one leg to the other.

She bit her lip and nodded.

'Go ahead, laugh'

She descended into silent giggles. After a moment she recovered her composure, 'thank you sire' she said with a wide grin which made his stomach turn over.

'I didn't think you would actually laugh' he said, a little mortified.

'I'm sorry sire. But you coming to me about girls...its absurd.'

'And why Guinevere is it so absurd?'

'Because my lord' she said in the tone of one attempting to get a young child to grasp a very simple concept 'you are the Prince of Camelot.'

'I'm sorry?'

'You could have any woman you desire, you are the future King, you are noble, intelligent and very handsome' she said quickly, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she could stop them.

'Very handsome?' he asked an eyebrow arched.

Her cheeks were on fire as she stammered, 'well that's what everyone says, not me...though that's not to say that I don't think you are...because you-'

'Guin-e-vere' he said with a smile, silencing her instantly. She gulped as embarrassment threatened to consume her.

It was his turn to laugh.

She glared at him, hands on hips, feigning anger. Then her lip trembled as she caught his eye and soon she was laughing along with him. It felt somehow very natural to be standing there with the Prince,

talking with him, laughing with him. It was as if the barriers that divided them had melted away.

But she soon too regained her sense of propriety.

'So sire' she said a little breathlessly, 'what exactly is it you need advice about?'

'Well' he said, taking a breath to steady his nerves and locking gazes with her, 'there's this girl-'

The door to the laundry snapped open, and a woman's head poked out, 'Gwen what in God's name-' she began, 'sire!' she exclaimed, dropping the pile of fresh laundered sheets she was carrying.

'I'm so sorry your majesty' she said scrabbling around on the floor.

'It is no matter' the young Prince replied, ducking down to help her, knocking heads with Gwen as she did the same.

'Sorry' they said in unison, mirroring each other as stood up slowly, rubbing the point of impact rather gingerly, a gentle flush creeping into their cheeks as their eyes met.

Cautiously, Arthur bent again to assist the older woman. He bundled up the sheets in his arms.

'I'll take those sire.'

'Thank you Guinevere' he said formally, and as the old woman disappeared back into the laundry, he added 'could we finish having this conversation in my room at say five o'clock?'

She opened her mouth to protest, to tell him she had a million other things to do, that she didn't have time for his little melodramas, but then she remembered who she was talking to.

'Of course my lord' she replied, mouth tight as she inclined her head and vanished through the door.

***

'I'm sorry I'm late my lady' Gwen said breathlessly as she made her way into Morgana's chamber, looking harried, 'the laundry was manic today, the fine material of your dress took longer to repair than

expected, the kitchen staff needed a hand with dinner and-'

Morgana waved away her servant's apology, 'do not worry about it Gwen. Besides,' she said a mischievous glint in her eyes, 'by the sounds of it you had a bit of help with being late from Arthur.'

Gwen flushed in spite of herself, 'it was nothing' she said hastily.

'Did I say it was something?' Morgana asked, trying to sound innocent as she ran a brush through her long, raven black hair.

'You inferred it' Gwen said mutinously, pulling two dresses out of the wardrobe.

'The green or the blue my lady?'

Morgana looked unimpressed 'the green I suppose' she said bored.

'Maybe it won't be so bad' Gwen reasoned.

'Oh it will' her mistress replied dramatically.

The bells tolled five.

'I have to go' Gwen said, 'Arthur-' she began, '-needs me to run an errand' she finished after a look from Morgana.

'I will return as soon as I can'

'Don't hurry back' Morgana replied with a suggestive smile.

***

Arthur was pacing back and forth. She was late, and his nerves were mounting. Maybe she wasn't coming. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Maybe-

A knock at the door broke through his thoughts.

'Come in' and Guinevere entered.

'Sorry I'm late sire.'

'That's alright' he said resuming his pacing, 'the point is that you're here now.'

Gwen bit her tongue.

'So what I wanted to discuss...' he said slowly 'what I wanted to discuss...'

'Girls' Gwen said a little impatiently.

'Yes'

'I still think you ought to ask someone else. Someone who knows a little more about girls'

'Well I would like your opinion' Arthur said simply.

'May I ask why?' she replied a half comprehending glint in her eyes.

'You are very close to the lady in question' he grinned.

'Oh' she breathed 'I see' she gave a small smile. Arthur beamed back; glad she had caught on so quickly.

'Any general advice on how to proceed?'

'Show her how you feel' Gwen replied as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

'And how do I do that?'

'Flowers?'

'Flowers, great.' He grinned, 'what kind of flowers?'

'That is up to you' she turned to leave.

'Gwen?' he pleaded, catching her hand, sending electricity pulsing through her veins.

'I have to go and attend to the lady in question, make sure she is looking her best for the feast tonight.'

'I doubt you can improve on perfection' Arthur grinned impishly.

'I can try' she said with a smile which sent his heart aflutter as she slipped through the door.

***

She made her way swiftly through the castle's winding corridors. She supposed she had always known this would happen. Morgana had always been intended for Arthur's bride, for his Queen. But somehow

she could not picture it. They seemed more like brother and sister than lovers. What unsettled her most was the fact that Arthur appeared to be positively enthused by the prospect of wooing his foster sister.

It didn't make any sense. Or maybe it made perfect sense. Gwen shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts.

Really it was none of her business, whatever it was that was going on. But Morgana was more a friend than a mistress, so didn't she have the right to care? Was her mistress even aware of Arthur's

intentions? Gwen guessed not, though she suspected Morgana would know soon enough.

A very honest part of Gwen knew her intrigue in the subject did not merely lie in her capacity as Morgana's friend. She wasn't sure when it had begun. Perhaps in Ealdor, or as he lay in bed, moments from

death, or when he had risked his life for a servant's, she honestly didn't know. All she did know was that the feeling, whatever it was, had to be quashed. She was a servant. He was a Prince. And that was a

recipe for heartbreak.

***

Gwen had just finished tying Morgana's hair up in an elaborate knot when the latter asked the question which had been on tongue since her servant's return, 'what do you think of Arthur?'

'I'm sorry my lady?' she replied as she fastened a necklace around Morgana's pale neck.

'Do you like him?'

'He is the future King' Gwen said, as if it was an answer.

'I meant as a man?'

'It's getting late, you ought really to be downstairs' she said turning away to straighten the hangings of her mistress's bed.

'Gwen?'

But Guinevere was already out of the door.

***

Arthur leant against the cold stone wall of the corridor, drinking in the cool draft. He closed his eyes, collecting himself before re-entering the throne room where the incessant, inane chatter of the nobility

waited for him. Perhaps another lively discussion debate over whether or not Lady Mary's shoes made her feet look fat, or whether blue really was the right colour for the Baroness. The sound of approaching

footsteps forced him out of his reverie.

'Guinevere'

'Sire' she said dipping low in a curtsey.

She was beautiful in the half light. Her skin seemed to reflect the beams of some non-existent sun, her eyes danced with an emotion he could not indentify. She wore a simple cornflower blue dress with a

white bodice, in her hair was woven a white ribbon and delicate flowers.

'You managed it' he said as she turned to leave.

'I'm sorry?'

'You somehow managed to improve on perfection'

'Thank you sire, it is nice to know that my efforts were not in vain' she said tight-lipped, 'you should be getting back to the feast.'

'Indeed I should' he replied, 'but I'd rather not. Such gatherings are rather tiresome'

'Yes I imagine gorging yourself on food people have spent a whole day slaving over, dancing on floors which have been scrubbed so hard it has made someone's fingers bleed, in a room which has taken us a

week to decorate must be incredibly wearisome for you.'

She flinched at the venom in her own voice.

'I'm sorry sire, I should not have spoken to you so, I had no right-'

He placed a finger to her lips, 'you had every right. I ought to appreciate the hard work which goes into these events, I should not take it for granted. And thankfully you will not allow me to do so' he said with

a smile, 'thank you Guinevere' he inclined his head to her, 'it is good to be reminded of my place occasionally'

She flushed, not sure if he was mocking her. Her lips still burnt where he had touched them. His fingerprint etched there.

'We should be getting back' he said with a grin, then, turning back to her, added 'what do you think of shoes Guinevere?'

'Shoes sire?'

'Yes'

'They are useful to have, your feet would get awfully cold without them' she said a little hesitantly.

'Just as I suspected' Arthur said with a triumphant smile.

'Excuse me?'

'You have just restored my faith in humanity' he said as he flashed her a boyish grin, which stilled her beating heart for a second, as he disappeared into the hall.

***

She waited a couple of minutes and followed in his wake. The throne room was blazing with candlelight, the sound of talking and music interweaving in perfect harmony, the dancers marking out intricate

patterns on the floor.

'Gwen?' said a voice right behind her.

She jumped in surprise 'Merlin' she breathed.

'Where,' he said with an arched eyebrow, 'have you been?'

'Nowhere'

'Nowhere?'

'Well not nowhere obviously, I was somewhere, I was in the corridor.'

'With whom?'

'Whom?' she asked with her heart beating against her ribs so hard she could barely breathe, her voice a little higher than usual.

'You were out there with someone weren't you?'

'Perhaps'

'I knew it!' he said triumphantly, nearly punching the air in excitement, 'and I know who it was' he said in a sing-song voice.

'Who?' she said, dreading the answer, though knowing he would tell her regardless.

'Arthur!'

'So?'

'Arthur and Gwen sitting in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G...'

She didn't stick around for the rest of Merlin's rendition.

***

Gwen watched from the sidelines as Arthur danced set after set with pretty girl after pretty girl. He conversed with them pleasantly enough, but the smile he had hitched onto his handsome face did not reach

his eyes which remained cool and glassy, as if his mind was elsewhere. Then he turned and his eyes met hers. Suddenly they were dancing with some internal light. A sad smile graced her lips and she turned

away, filling the goblet of some nameless lord.